


Eligible Means Desirable, Not Qualified

by Kalyppso



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route Spoilers, Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:08:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24938056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalyppso/pseuds/Kalyppso
Summary: Claude and Ashe dance at a ball.
Relationships: Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 4
Kudos: 42





	Eligible Means Desirable, Not Qualified

**Author's Note:**

  * For [YoungAlias (youngbek)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/youngbek/gifts).



> All Fire Emblem properties and characters have credit to Nintendo and their respective creators / owners. I'm just playing.
> 
> I wrote this for a prompt on tumblr: Pulling in to dance.

Ashe had found rather quickly that dancing with strangers at a ball had not been near as romantic as any book might lead you to believe. More than half the crowd was twice his age and looked on him like a schoolmarm might an unruly child. The orphan adopted by a traitor, who’d sought rewards and power simply by virtue of being distantly associated with a once-absent king.

He was only on a second flute of champagne, but it had been more enjoyable to skirt the edges of the ball, talking with old friends as much as they dared or had time for. The throng of people was so thick and insistent, that except for his opening speech, Ashe hadn’t even laid eyes on Dimitri; or rather, His Highness, as he hated to be called by those closest to him — and wasn’t that proof enough that he and Dimitri had once been friends, even if the months that passed made it feel more and more impossible.

In all, even the addition of Almyran guests had done little to convince Ashe that this was anything short of another political meeting that he hadn’t actually needed to be present for.

There had been a few recurring sights to the evening; Felix had threatened no less than five nobles, for example, and Ingrid had caused a bit of a commotion when she’d girded her loins to participate in feats of dexterity and follow dancing lessons from some of the Almyran ladies, but these had been numbered events, that Ashe could have counted on his fingers. More eye-catching than them, it seemed every time Ashe turned his head, there was King Claude, making a point to dance with each eligible member of the Fodlan nobility. A suspiciously-Sylvain performance, Ashe had thought at first, until he really started to mull it over.

They weren’t children anymore, and while others hounded Dimitri, so too must there be a crowd that taunted Claude with the importance of a spouse and an heir. To Claude’s credit, it would certainly force some kind of reconciliation if he married someone from Fodlan.

He nearly coughed half his flute back into the glass when he realized he’d finally been staring long enough for Claude to notice him.

Slamming his glass down on a side table, Ashe raised his left hand to his mouth as he fumbled for a handkerchief with his right. Relief washed over him, though his heart was still racing, when he’d managed to clean himself up before having to stand straight in front of the foreign ruler.

“Hey,” Claude greeted, warm and cheery, with half a laugh that made Ashe bemoan his embarrassment. “Long time no see.”

“Your Majesty,” Ashe said politely, bowing. “It’s wonderful to welcome you to Fodlan again.”

Something flashed in Claude’s eyes that Ashe was glad he wasn’t too drunk to notice.

“Lord Ashe,” Claude agreed, extending a hand, “Fodlan’s welcome is all that I could hope for.” Ashe shook Claude’s hand, decorated in ribbons and jewels, and started to shake his head. “I hear congratulations are in order, and His Kingliness tells me your family is well. Or at least he did … ten months ago? It’s truly a shame that time passes so fast.”

“I—” Ashe hesitated. There was a lot to unpack about Claude’s statement. Had Claude asked about him? Or about everyone? Or had Dimitri simply volunteered the information? Ruling, even a small estate, had not been what Ashe had trained for, and neither did it feel like it warranted congratulations, with the exception that it allowed him to confirm the security of his siblings. “Ashe,” he corrected finally. “Just Ashe is fine. I’m still getting used to the Lord bit.”

Claude smiled again, nodding, and Ashe wondered if there was something of years ago in it even before Claude looked over his shoulder to confirm their seclusion before answering, hushed, “Then call me Claude while you can get away with it.”

A wink from Claude’s green eyes at this proximity had Ashe diverting his gaze, hoping his blush could be dismissed with the thrill of misbehaving. People always mistook his emulation of virtue as a respect for tradition and rules, but every one of his friendships involved exceptions of some sort; being offered to call an old friend by their name would not be so thrilling under most other circumstances.

Ashe decided that rather than be rude, he had to look back to Claude and nod despite his blush having yet to fade, but it felt doubled when Claude chuckled at him.

“Good,” Claude agreed. He extended his hand again, palm up this time. “Would you want to take this conversation to the dance floor?”

“Oh,” Ashe peeped, looking down at himself and trying to decide if what he wore was clean and formal enough to dance with a king.

“I promise I’ve improved since our academy days,” Claude offered, swaying his head.

“No — I mean, yes,” Ashe fumbled. “I’d love to dance with you.” He placed his hand in Claude’s and started following him the few necessary steps to the dance floor. “I guess I just made some wrong assumptions about who you were dancing with.”

Claude spun Ashe and himself in a half circle, in time with the dance and the music and seemed ready to speak, until Ashe nearly fell at the end of the spin, his feet tapping along the floor to keep from falling. Suddenly Claude was closer, an arm around his waist.

Ashe confessed, “I-I only know how to lead.”

“I’m so sorry,” Claude chuckled, changing their stance. “I should have asked. I should have realized…”

“It’s fine,” Ashe promised, taking lead, smiling and avoiding eye contact with a group of nobles watching them. “But wow! It’s more than an improvement to learn these dances forwards and backwards.”

“I’m … adaptable,” Claude allowed, scrunching his face dismissively and shrugging one shoulder. “And anyway a dance floor is an invitation, whether someone asks you to dance or not. People are more willing to whisper secrets if they think they’re hidden under music and conversation.”

Ashe felt his blush coming back and rushed to say, “That’s very astute — and I don’t mean that in the way one might feel obligated to compliment their monarch. You’ve always been rather observant, whether that won you battles or allies, even from the days of our youth. I always admired that… M-m-m-more so, when it came to light that more than the heir to the Leicester Alliance, you were a secret prince, vying for your people, no matter where they came from.”

“Hmm,” Claude said thoughtfully, his brow lowered in assessment, a pout to his lips.

“That-that isn’t to say—” Ashe began.

“You’ve thought a lot about that,” Claude observed, and Ashe nearly tripped over his own two feet again.

“I mean, not as such,” he protested. The song ended and left him dead on the dance floor. “I’m sorry,” Ashe said with a bow. “I’ve offended you.”

“What? No,” Claude hissed, looking back and forth at the crowds. He took Ashe in arms to pull him into the next dance, as if to keep him from running.

“I didn’t mean to romanticize your life,” Ashe confessed. “I know you’ve been through war, same as the rest of us.”

Claude smiled sadly. “Even with that being why I’m here. Let’s not talk about that for tonight, okay Ashe?”

There was something about the use of his name that had the hair on the back of Ashe’s neck stand on end. “Of course,” he agreed. “It’s a happy night.”

“Sure,” Claude said dismissively. “Who did you  _ assume _ I was dancing with?”

“Oh Goddess, I said that didn’t I?” Ashe lamented, trying not to think of dance steps and just follow Claude’s lead.

“Making assumptions about foreign royalty is the game here,” Claude insisted, gesturing to the court at large.

“Maybe so, but I didn’t mean—” Ashe sighed. “I just  _ thought _ I’d noticed you dancing with  **eligible** members of the nobility.”

Claude’s shoulders relaxed and he smiled, all teeth and confusion. “Yeah?”

Ashe frowned, more confused than Claude now.

“And what are you,” Claude asked, deliberate, “Lord Ashe?”

Surprise replaced confusion as Ashe remembered his position, but he was able to close his gaping mouth quickly enough that his smile felt calm, natural. The set up was exactly like one of his books, and Ashe thanked his past self for reading so much that he could answer, a little more suave than he’d been otherwise, “Intrigued.”

Claude licked his lips, and Ashe sighed in wonder. Had he been intriguing enough to warrant more than a moment of Claude’s time? A wink said yes.

**Author's Note:**

> It felt strange to try and explore a different version of Claude than I usually write, even as short as this was. I hope you liked it!


End file.
